


Hit The Brakes

by cycling_lane



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Sad with a Happy Ending, jonsa, the pack survives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 18:50:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16687009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cycling_lane/pseuds/cycling_lane
Summary: Sansa Stark has lost almost everything. But as the rain pelts down on the roof of Jon Snow’s car, she realises that it doesn’t have to stay that way.





	Hit The Brakes

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr, as part of JonxSansaFanFiction Twelve Days of Shipping. Day 1: Road Trip AU.
> 
> A lot more angsty than I had originally planned, but oh well. Hope you enjoy!

This is wrong. 

Sansa stands at the edge of the cliff, looking down. It’s a long drop. 

Briefly she wonders how long it would take, if she were to jump right now, until she hits the sea below. Maybe she won’t even fall in the water. There are sharp rocks that break its surface, and she might be skewered by one of them instead. 

It’s a scary place, but beautiful. Rickon would have loved it. 

He would have been exhilarated by height of the cliff, the wind in his hair, the sound of crashing waves below. But he would have been disappointed, too. Disappointed by the lovely weather; the quiet breeze and the calm sun. He always preferred mud and lightning storms. 

Sansa steps back from the edge. Her hands clutch the black urn anxiously, refusing to let go. This is wrong, she tells herself again. She will not scatter her baby brother’s ashes here. Not today. 

She will hold on to him a little longer. 

 

+

 

It takes Jon two months to come and find her. 

Almost three weeks have passed by the time he hears about little Rickon Stark’s death. He is in the gritty, grimy debts of Afghanistan at the time, fully immersed in a top-secret, high-ops military operation. 

His first thought is of Sansa. Lovely, soft-spoken Sansa, whose fiery red hair blazes even brighter than the hot Afghan sun, and who is now all alone. He nearly gets sick at the thought of it. He needs to go see her -be there for her, now that she mourns her baby brother and undoubtedly cries through the nights. 

But Captain Baratheon refuses. “I need you here, boy,” he says. “You’re the only one who can pull this off.”

Although Jon has never hated Stannis more than in that moment, he does as he is told. He stays. Finishes the mission. Kills so many men he loses count and retrieves whatever information his government so desperately wants. Then he boards a plane, races to her doorstep, and vows to never look back. 

 

+

 

“She won’t come, y’know,” he tells her one night, as they lie side by side in the dark. 

Her breathing hasn’t yet slowed down, his skin is still slick with their sweat. The world is a cruel, harsh place, and they are both a little broken, but here -lying so closely together that they can feel each other’s heartbeats- they have managed to create something to shelter them from the storm. 

And now Jon has taken a figurative sledgehammer in his hands and threatens to undo it all. “Arya, I mean. She-” He takes a deep breath, and pushed on. “She’s been missing for so long, it’s-”

“I know.”

They are quiet for a long time. 

When Sansa speaks up again, her voice is soft. “I just… I’d always hoped that she was still out there, somewhere. Alive. That she’d heard of Rickon’s death. That it would be enough to bring her home.”

Jon feels himself tense up, but she just cuddles closer.

“Not for me,” she whispers. “But for him. For his funeral.”

A silent tear rolls down his face. He holds his entire world in his arms right now: she is the beginning and the end of it, both its beauty and its tragedy, just like he is hers. There is no one else. Ned and Robb never came home from their respective military tours. Arya ran away ages ago, shortly after Cat and Bran were killed in a freak traffic accident. And now Rickon is gone, too. 

Jon will never tell her, but even if Sansa’s little sister had come home -even if she had been present for Rickon’s funeral, she wouldn’t have been the same. It wouldn't have been as it was before. It will never be again. 

Then again, Jon doesn’t have to tell her that. 

Sansa already knows. 

 

+

 

“We are going on a road trip.”

Jon looks from Sansa to the window and back again, giving her a questioning look. It’s raining cats and dogs outside. The skies are a threatening shade of grey, and thunder rumbles in the distance. 

“Now?” He asks. 

She nods. “Now.”

That’s when he notices the small black urn in her hands. 

 

+

 

This time, it is exactly right. 

Sansa stands at the edge of the cliff, eyes closed and chin tilted up. Rain drenches her clothes, chilling her to the bone, but she couldn’t care less. In the back of her head, her mother scolds her. Her brothers are laughing, running around and tackling each other into the mud. Even Arya is there, playing rugby with Bran. 

And there -there is her father. He is tall and proud, walking down the drive in his ridiculous yellow raincoat, Rickon perched on his shoulders. Her baby brother smiles. His ginger hair is plastered to his face, his cheeks are radiant. They are of the North. Bad weather is what warms their blood.

A couple of seconds later, thunder shakes the earth. Sansa opens her eyes just in time to see a flash of lightning shoot across the skies. 

“He would have loved this,” Jon says. He stands behind her, his warmth radiating through their clothes and calming down her racing heart.

She waits for a particularly strong gust of wind, swears she can her the laughter of her family on it, and opens the urn. 

 

+

 

It’s warm in the car. It’s their own safe little cocoon, even as the rain pelts down on the roof and drowns out the radio.

“Where to?” Jon asks, without letting go of her hand. “Home?”

He is her kind, gentle and strong -the love of her life. Her entire world. Her home, more so than any pile of bricks could ever be. And in that moment, Sansa knows that she can tackle the entire world for as long as he is by her side. 

She grins. “I told you, didn’t I? We’re going on a road trip.”

“You mean this wasn’t it?” He looks slightly confused, but starts up the engine anyway. When they pull onto the motorway, Sansa lifts his hand to her mouth and presses a kiss against his scarred knuckles.

She may not be alright yet, but she will be. Both of them will. 

“We are just getting started.”

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to hear from you. Leave a comment here, or find me on [tumblr](https://cycling-lane.tumblr.com) if that is your kind of thing. 
> 
> Have a lovely day!
> 
> -A


End file.
